


They Only Want You For Your Brains

by MotherGoddamn, Rebness



Category: Glee
Genre: F/M, M/M, Zombies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-30
Updated: 2012-05-30
Packaged: 2017-11-06 08:26:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/416783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MotherGoddamn/pseuds/MotherGoddamn, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rebness/pseuds/Rebness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Glee kids have a new challenge on the horizon. A shuffling, angry, zombie challenge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

'America: a land invaded by dudes who were sick of Europe's shit. We threw away their tea, their stupid taxes, their snooty languages. And we made everything _better_. We built skyscrapers and rockets and... like lots of other big stuff. Our drive culminated in this - absolute perfection.'

Finn regarded Puck for a few moments, frowning. 'But it's a cheeseburger.'

Puck turned to him, shaking his head. 'Why do you hate America, Finn?'

'I don't!'

'I'm so tired of this,' said Kurt, folding his arms. 'Can't you just hurry up and finish your fake-food? The movie starts in ten minutes.'

'Why'd you invite the Dementor again, Finn?'

Finn shrugged. 'My mom says we need to bond.'

'That's the only reason?' asked Kurt, offended.

'That and you can pay for me to get in.'

Kurt threw up his hands. 'I'm sick of this! Can we just go?'

'Chill, little dude!' said Puck. 'The theater's like next door.'

'But we'll miss the trailers,' said Finn.

'Have another burger,' said Puck. He glared at Kurt. 'Why don't you get one instead of sitting there, judging me?'

'Because Burger King food tastes of tears and lost aspirations.'

'I just prefer McDonalds,' said Finn helpfully. 'Anyway, he's right. Let's just go already.'

Puck always looked back on this moment and remembered it differently. Kurt said he had sat there for several minutes, his mouth open and a dumb expression on his face. Finn said he was sure Puck had squealed like Rachel, but what did they know?

It was his story and he was the hero of the hour, so he must've said something pithy and awesome right before the blood-soaked lady came stumbling through the door and threw herself on a customer at the counter in a flurry of bites and snarls.

'Oh, Christ!' howled Finn, jumping out of his seat. 'Oh my God! Oh my God, lady, get off!'

'Help that guy, Finn!' cried Kurt, standing up. 

'She's got rabies or something!' said Puck, cramming the last fistful of fries in his mouth before they could get rabies juice _or something_ on them. 

Finn ran over to the screaming man, who was grappling with his attacker. 'Someone help me!' he gasped as blood spurted over him. He glanced up at the teenager behind the counter. 'Dude, do something!' 

'I-I'm not paid enough!' he stammered.

'See,' snarled Finn. 'This is totally why I prefer McDonalds!' 

Puck was at his side then, helping him drag the woman off the injured man. 'Lady, what the hell is your problem?' he muttered, holding her by the waist. He screamed in a strange, high-pitched way, when she turned to him, her mouth bleeding, her eyes an icy blue, her stare vacant. 

'Th-that's rabies?' asked Kurt, horrified.

Puck shoved her, hard. 'Oh, what! It's happened. It's finally happened.' 

Finn stood there, mouth agape. 'Puck.'

'Finn.'

'Zombies!' 

'What?' cried Kurt. 

Puck punched the air. 'All right! Let's get to the bathroom! We got some planning to do!'

*

Kurt didn't have time to launch into a monologue before Finn had caught him by the wrist and run for the bathroom (without any regard for the fact that Kurt's shoes were not made for running, let alone going to a smelly bathroom), Puck kicking the shuffling, angry lady in the stomach before they fled down the corridor.

'No!' cried Finn, slamming against the bathroom door. 'It's one of those stupid code ones!' He turned around, gasping, as the angry lady came shuffling down the hall after them. 

'What's the code!' cried Kurt. 'What's the code!' 

'Will you two chill out?' said Puck. 'I come in here for a McShit every other day. It's C1791A.'

Finn punched in the numbers, but did it wrong. He tried it again. 'I pressed C!' he screamed at the door. 

All the while, the angry lady drew closer. 

'Come on, man!' shouted Puck. 

Kurt pushed Finn out of the way. Shaking though he was, he had nimbler fingers. He pressed in the code and they dived into the bathroom, Puck slamming the door shut behind them. He turned around. 'Finn! We forgot to check if there are any douchey zombies in here!' 

'Oh, yeah!' 

'We can't slip up like this!' said Puck, kicking each cubicle open. 'Was all the planning for nothing?' 

'Excuse me,' said Kurt, deeply annoyed at all this shouting and screaming and blood. 'You've been planning for a rabies attack?' 

'Zombie attack!' corrected Puck. 

'She's not a zombie, you half-baked idiots!' 

'Watch your mouth, little dude!' said Puck. 'I'm the leader here and I will totally throw you to the creepers if you continue like this.' 

'You're being ridiculous! And Finn--' 

'I have waited for this day all my life,' whispered Finn.

'Will you just listen to yourselves!' 

'No, you listen!' said Puck. 'We're in a critical situation right now. You'd best sit your ass down on that there toilet seat--' 

'I wasn't _that_ scared!' 

'--And listen. We're in midst of what we prepared people call 'The Zombie Apocalypse'. This is where we experience a widespread rise of zombies, who are hostile to human life engages in a general assault on civilisation. '

'What?'

'Totally. Wiki it.' He clapped his hands. 'Finn, explain the rest to Kurt while I just rip these toilets lids off.' He stared into one cubicle. 'Oh, man. Anyone have any hand sanitiser?' 

'I do!' Kurt reached into his bag -- ignoring Puck's judgemental frown -- and handed him the bottle. 

'See,' said Finn. 'This is how it goes. You think I've been wasting my life, watching reruns of _Dawn of the Dead_ and that weird British one with the baseball bats and... and the naked chick zombie killers. But what I've been doing, Kurt--'

'What _we've_ been doing,' said Puck from the other cubicle.

'What _we've_ been doing is preparing. Getting ready. I've done all the research. In 2009, Carleton University did a study in the case of zombie apocalypse. They realised something: dudes have to be offensive. I don't know how swearing helps, but being fucking defensive apparently doesn't. So I'm not gonna get on your case.' He considered. 'Too much.' 

'Will you just stop!' snapped Kurt. 'I'm calling the cops and then we're getting out of here and _I am going to see my film_!' He dialled 911 on his cell. 'Hello, operator? I need to report an attack.' 

'A zombie attack!' said Finn, checking the windows.

'No-- no, I'm not joking. I think she has rabies.'

'She's a zombie, Doubting Thomas!' 

'No, I'm -- it's not a joke. Please--' he slammed the phone shut. 'Thanks a lot, Finn. They're going to cite me for wasting police time!' 

‘Dude.’ Finn crossed other to him and took Kurt’s shoulders. ‘It’s zombies. You saw them.’

‘I saw _one_. With rabies.’

‘Aha! Puck pointed in triumph. ’So you conceive you saw one.’

‘Conci--? No! Yes! Maybe.’ Kurt chewed his lip. ‘Her mouth wasn’t very foamy, was it?’

‘Zombie,’ Finn intoned with a solemn nod.

Puck sighed. Too much talking and not enough _action._

'Rule number one: if either of you bitches gets chewed on, you're going down. I don't care how many puppy dog looks you give--'

'You think I'm going to get bitten, don't you?' said Kurt, offended.

'Totally, dude. The small one always gets eaten. I'm expecting at least one biting injury and a sad scene where I try to convince Finn to shoot you and he's all, "dude! That's my brother!" and crying bitter tears--'

'I don't cry bitter tears!'

'--Dude, I'm trying to make him feel better about his impending death,' said Puck reasonably. 'Then there's going to be a bit where we think the coast is clear and then all these zombies come running around the corner and oh, there'll be a bit where we're all overwhelmed and I throw like a grenade at them or something while making wisecracks. Leave the wisecracks to me, Finn. I'm much funnier.'

'Life's not a stupid zombie film!' said Kurt. 'I'm not getting bitten. I'm not getting overwhelmed and Finn would so cry over me.' He turned to Finn. 'Wouldn't you?' he said severely.

'Uh... okay, I guess.'

'How long would you cry?'

'I don't know. Like, a week?'

'A week!' protested Kurt. 'Are you made of stone or something?'

'Dude,' said Puck. 'A week is ridiculously short. I cried over my hamster for a month solid.' He growled as they stared at him. 'What! That little fella was a legend.'

Finn threw his hands up in the air. 'All right, then! A month!'

'You'd put me on par with a hamster? A hamster!'

'Don't you disrespect Kevin that way!' warned Puck, annoyed.

'A month and a half, then!' cried Finn. 'Sheesh.'

'You should've got your dad with my mom. My dad was an asshole and could do with being replaced. And I'd cry over you for, like, six months.' He shot Finn a smug smile.

Kurt opened his mouth to speak when an almighty shove from outside strained the door. They waited, hearts in their mouths, as someone snapped and growled outside, testing the door.

'Hahaha!' Puck slapped his knee, enjoying this immensely. 'Dumb shit!'

'You shouldn't laugh at the less fortunate in society!' said Kurt.

'Wait... what if they learn how to use codes?' whispered Finn. 'Do you remember that velociraptor in _Jurassic Park_ that worked out how to use door handles?'

'That was just a door handle!' scoffed Puck.

As if on cue, whoever was outside the door began punching at the number pad. Kurt turned to them. 'Can we just... please can we just get out of here?'

'Sure,' said Puck. 'I'm going to smash open this window and then we can make a run for it across the parking lot.' He handed Kurt a toilet seat, displeased when Kurt let it drop to the ground with a shriek. 'I ran it under the faucet! Pick that right up or you won't have a weapon!' 

Kurt reluctantly bent down and picked it up again. He sighed heavily. 'Where are we going?'

'The Lima Army Tank Plant!'

'The what plant?'

'Tanks! Military! We're saved!' said Finn.

'Of course,' said Puck, 'we have to be prepared for a) an angry army dude who tries to kill us all like in _28 Days Later_ or b) the zombies are already there or c) all that weird stuff in _Resident Evil_ that made no sense. But hopefully none of the above and we can get ourselves a tank, son.' 

'And then what?' asked Kurt, shaking his head. 

'Finntopia,' said Finn.

'What!' 

'Well, everyone will be dead or in little pockets, so what we do is we get out into the mountains or move to New York and take over some mansion and we repopulate the earth.' He frowned. 'Puck, we need to make sure that Quinn and Rachel survive.' He nodded. 'Okay, so Finntopia it is.' 

'Hey,' said Puck. 'Why should it be named after you?

Finn shrugged. 'Because it has a certain jenny say wha to it! What would be better?' 

'Kurtopia?' ventured Kurt. 

'Sounds too much like Kermit,' said Puck. 'And gay. Puckville is totally the way forward for humanity.'

Finn scratched his cheek. 'No. We should just put our names together! Like... like Fucktopia.'

'Dude, no. Rude.'

Kurt raised an eyebrow. 'Fuckup?' 

'No,' said Finn. He snapped his fingers. 'Yeah! We could name our repopulation village Fuckurt!'

Puck bit his lip, considering. He cast Kurt a long, appraising glance. 

Kurt buttoned up his coat hastily. 'Okay, I just need five minutes. Let me call Blaine first, check he's okay.'

*

Rachel Berry frowned as she observed herself in the mirror. No, this wouldn't do at all. What on Earth was Quinn thinking with this suggestion? It was far too clingy, and revealing. And leopard print.

Absently, she wondered if this was another Kurt Hummel makeover attack, but Blaine had came shopping with them and he was far too nice to go along with that. Although, he had paled when she first walked out in this, making polite comments with the pros and cons. _So many cons_. That of course could be the remants of desire from their brief, yet passionate, love affair.

She pouted into the mirror, Santana pose at the ready. No. It just wasn't Rachel Berry enough for her taste. She hoped the next dress that Quinn had gone to retrieve was more _her_.

Pulling the dress over her head, she let out a squeak of panic. Yet again, she'd managed to get stuck. Trapped in the dress, her vision blurred and her arms twisted at an awkward angle, Rachel was glad to hear the drawing back of the curtain.

'Ah, Quinn!' She said, muffled. 'Could you help me out of this, please?'

Quinn grunted her agreement, tugging at the material and pressing up close. A bit _too_ close, actually. Quinn's, surprisingly, rancid breath made Rachel wrinkle her nose.

'I'm really glad you agreed to come along today,' Rachel continued, hoping Quinn could hear her. 'I feel that it is essential that you and I come to some sort of fragile friendship; in time I am sure that will grow into a true one, strong and steadfast, that can only strengthen the dynamic and spirit of glee.'

Quinn chose not to answer, still tearing at the fabric brutally.

'Quinn? Perhaps if you pull up instead of back?' Rachel could feel her face heating. She was rather exposed here, her body on show to the school's beauty. Was she judging? Was she sneering at Rachel's training bra and pony covered panties? 'Quinn?'

And then Quinn licked a thick strip up Rachel's back, her face pressed tight against Rachel's now perspiring skin.

With a gasp, Rachel managed to slip the dress off her head, her hands covering her face before it had even hit the floor.

'Quinn! No!' She cried into her palms. 'I'm not saying I have never thought about it, you are after all a very beautiful and inspirational girl, and growing up with two gay dads has instilled in me strong security in my sexuality and--' Rachel squeaked as Quinn's nose pressed into the nape of her neck. 'Quinn! We mustn't! No!'

Quinn paid her no mind, her hands coming to rest tight on her shoulders and grunting once more in lust. Eyes still tightly shut, Rachel dropped her hands. Blaine was just outside! This had to-- er, was Quinn chewing on her hair?

Confused, Rachel opened her eyes, meeting the other girl's in the mirror.

And screamed and screamed and screamed.

*

Happily flicking through his _Vogue_ , Blaine swung his legs back and forth. He was really glad that Kurt had suggested this. If he was to transfer to McKinley like he was planning on, it would do well to get on with his future class mates. Especially Rachel, he _adored_ Rachel.

He wasn't sure on Quinn, who bowed to his superior haute couture tastes but still seemed to him a bit of an ice queen. He sensed something tender beneath her surface, but that may just have been wishful thinking. He did prefer to think the best in everyone. 

'Except you, honey!' he gasped at a model draped in unfortunate colours for the Versace fall collection. 'Oh, well. I kind of do. A bit. You poor thing.' 

His jacket vibrated, indicating a call. Placing the magazine to the side, he took out the cell and smiled on seeing Kurt's name light up the screen.

'Hey!'

'You're alive!' Kurt gasped in relief. 'I was so afraid!'

'Kurt!' Blaine admonished. 'Rachel isn't that bad!'

'Are you hurt?' Kurt pressed, voices yelling in the background. 'Are you okay?'

'Kurt, it's _Forever_ 21\. You need to stop being so dramatic, they have some very nice,' he looked round in dismay, 'carpets.'

'Blaine, listen to me--'

A high pitched scream sounded out from Rachel's changing room and Blaine froze.

'What was that?' asked Kurt.

'I told her, that colour washes her out,' Blaine murmured as the curtain began to bulge and writhe, the sounds of a struggle filling the air. 'Kurt, I-'

Another scream and then Rachel flew out, screaming and fighting as blonde woman repeatedly tried to-- tried to--

_Kiss her?_

'Kurt! I have to go!' He threw the phone down, ignoring the spluttered protests and moved into action. 'Miss? Miss, stop that. Come on. I'm sure there's another in your size.' Rachel gave a hard shove and Blaine caught the woman before she fell, stumbling as he did. 'What's this about--'

'Blaine! She's crazy!'

The woman looked up at him. Well, what was left of her face looked up at him. A large hole filled her forehead, skin flapped over and blood gushing. 'Rachel! What did you do?'

'She's trying to eat me!'

'Don't be ridiculous!' But before he even had time to finish his sentence, the woman was grappling and snapping her jaws at her face. 'Gah!' He shoved her towards Rachel.

Who shoved her back.

'What is wrong with her!' Blaine yelled as he flung the woman back towards Rachel.

'Stop throwing her at me, Blaine!' Rachel shrieked. 'I don't want her!'

'Well, neither do I!' He gasped as her teeth nearly made contact with his cheek, making him fling her even harder. 'Oh, my God!'

'Take her back!'

'You found her!'

'Do something!'

' _You_ do something!'

**SPLAT**

They both stared down at the woman between them, who now had an axe protuding from her head. Startled she made several jabs at the handle before shuddering and dropping to the floor.

Standing over her, with torn, blood-splattered clothes and wild eyes, was Quinn.

'Zombies,' she said simply.

Gaping, Blaine watched her pull out the axe and then look back towards the fitting room door.

'Help me, I need to barricade that up! At least, until we have a plan.'

'You just--' Blaine said in a dazed voice, unable to tear his eyes from the body on the floor. 'You just _killed_ that woman!'

Quinn looked back to him, wiping a hand across her forehead and leaving a smear of blood in its wake. 'The shop floor. It's full of them. I killed a lot more on way back here.'

Blaine backed away, slipping on the spilled blood. Kurt had said Quinn was cold, but this Ted Bundy side he had not been prepared for. Yeah, Santana maybe, but Quinn?

'It's zombies!' Quinn yelled, on seeing his expression. 'We need to get together on this, okay!'

'There's no such thing as zombies,' Blaine said slowly. 'Those are just movies and comic books, Quinn.'

'And now they're real!' 

'They're not! And you just killed an innocent--'

'Zombie!'

'Will you stop saying that word!' he cried. 

'You're very welcome to take a look!' Quinn cried, exasperated. She pointed towards the door.

'Fine.' Blaine straightend his collar. 'I _will_.' _And then I'm calling the police on your psychotic self._

With a reassuring pat to Rachel's shoulder, he moved past them both, flung open the door and stared out into the shop, casting his gaze left, then right. 

_Hmm._

Closing the door, he turned to face the two. 'Yeah, it's zombies.'

'I told you!' She put down the axe and began to drag the magazine table towards the door, turning it on the side to lock the handle into place. 'There I was, trying to find Rachel a suitable size eight--'

'I'm a two!'

'And then this woman just comes shuffling over and grabbed hold of the dress. So I was all, "I don't think so, get your own!" because this happens so often when they have sales on, you know? I once put this hambeast into a coma when she tried to take the last galaxy dress at Saks. _Anyway_ , I was gearing up for a fight when she tried to eat my arm. She just... grabbed hold of it and then made to eat it like it was, I don't know...' 

'A baguette?' ventured Blaine.

'Yes!' she said. 'A baguette. So I punched her. And that's when her face caved in.' She sighed. 'Someone had smashed the emergency display case and this axe was on the floor-'

'How does an axe stop a fire, anyway?' mused Rachel. 

'So I picked it up. Well, from there there was a lot of screaming and I realised about the zombies and saved Rachel, because I'm lovely like that and vastly superior to Rachel in every single way. Except in being a dork.' She patted Rachel on the shoulder. 'That's all you, baby.' 

Rachel frowned. 'Thanks. I think.' 

'So! Any questions?' 

'I don't understand. Why are you--' Rachel twirled a finger. 'Prepared?'

Quinn turned with a sceptical look. 'From dating Finn, of course!'

Rachel blinked.

'He made me watch zombie films nearly every weekend. Over and over.' She put her hand on her hip. 'None of this ringing a bell?'

'Last weekend we watched _Yentl_?'

'Rachel, the way to a boy's heart is through watching endless repeats of dumb movies.'

'It's true.' Blaine nodded. 'Do you know how many times I've seen _Moulin Rouge_?'

'But-- you made me watch that last week?'

'It is a cinematic classic of the modern era, Rac--' Blaine jumped as they heard an animalistic roar of anger. 

Quinn shuddered as the door began to pound inward, pushing at the tiny table that was keeping them out. It would hold them. For now.

'What's that noise?' Blaine asked as a low hum began to rise. He swallowed deeply. Oh. That was moaning. Crazy, evil zombie moaning. _Zombies_! His least favourite genre. 

'So we just have to avoid getting chomped on,' said Quinn brightly. 'That and turning on each other and we'll be _fine_. It's so like Cheerios practice, with the teamwork. And the bitches.'

‘Blaine,’ Rachel whispered, her face ashen with fear. ‘It bit me.’

Blaine gasped, covering his mouth with his hand. Taking a nervous step back, he collided with a suprised Quinn.

‘No,’ he said. ‘I—oh, my God, Rachel!’

‘Yes,’ she said sadly. Her eyes filled with tears and she shook her head. ‘It chewed on my hair.’

‘Rachel, I’m so sorry—’ Quinn started, raising the axe. She stopped with a frown. ‘No, wait. What?’

Rachel held up a slightly damp strand and stared at it mournfully. ‘See? It gummed it.’

'Rachel, you're fine. You can't turn into a zombie if it bites your hair.' Quinn frowned. 'Well, I'm pretty sure you can't.'

'Your hair's dead, anyway! So it can't be infected.' Blaine soothed. 'You'll be fine.'

'My hair's what? It killed my hair?' Rachel crossed her arms, now Blaine was taking pot shots and he wasn't even in McKinley yet. 'I'll have you know that _Hair Everywhere_ website has, on more than one occasion, offered a substantial cash settlement in trade for my locks. To suggest that it is lifeless is an insult and-'

'He meant scientifically dead, Rachel.'

'Oh.' She looked down at her exposed body, covering her skin with a blush. 'Quinn, I don't suppose you got that dress, did you?'

Quinn glowered.

'You could put what you were wearing back on?' Blaine suggested.

'Zombie brain gunk.' She pointed at her clothes sadly.

'The dress you were trying on?'

'It washes me out.'

'Yeah,' Blaine nodded sagely. 'May I suggest a navy blue? Oh! With those fun kitten heels we saw?'

'Oh, my--' Quinn snatched a dress off the return rack, throwing it at the two. 'Put this on.'

'Bardot neckline with crimped lace frills?' Blaine raised an eyebrow. 'Really?'

'You've been dating Kurt for too long, clearly.'

'But it's beig-- Kurt!' Blaine cried running back to his seat. 'He called!' Grabbing up his cell, he quickly dialed Kurt's number. Hopping from foot to foot as it rang. 'Come on, come on!' He gasped in relief when the line finally picked up.

'Blaine Anderson, don't you dare hang up on me ever again!'

'Kurt! Zombies! Zombies!'

'Yes,' Kurt said dryly. 'I had a suspicion.'

'And they attacked Rachel! And then Quinn had an axe!'

Kurt sucked in his breath. 'Are you all okay? Is Rachel bitten?'

'We're okay, we've barricaded ourselves into the changing rooms of _Forever 21_.'

'This is worse than I thought,' Kurt muttered as he quickly launched into their plan.

As Blaine listened intently, Quinn took a moment to scope out the window. Taking a chair, she stepped up onto it and stared out into the street. It wasn't clear, not by a long shot. But if they could get to a car. _Wait_! Blaine had driven here! Hopefully, the car was close enough to make a dash for it. 

'I was just asking after Puck,' Blaine was protesting. 'Don't start this up again. No! I do not have a crush on him!' He covered the receiver and mouthed to a changing Rachel _'oh, god yes, I do'_. 'I can't believe you'd think that, Kurt. Yes, yes.' He nodded into the phone. 'I'll tell them.'

'Is he with Finn?' Rachel asked, pulling down the dresses hem. 'Is he okay?'

'Yes, he is- ARGH!' Blaine recoiled as he turned. 'No, Kurt. I'm sorry. Rachel just put this dress on and-- Don't be mean, Kurt.' He lowered his voice to a whisper . 'There's this huge bow and--'

'Blaine,' Quinn hissed. 'Stay focused!'

He held up a finger and she bit the inside of her cheek. 'Yes,' he said. 'I see. I see,' his voice turned morose and he nodded into the phone. 'They want us to get to the Lima Army Tank Plant, which frankly sounds like something out of a roadrunner cartoon.' 

'Aha!' Quinn punched her palm. 'That's excellent thinking. Just like Finn.'

'But how?' Rachel asked. 'Do you expect us to go round,' she pointed to the now bulging door, 'them?'

'No,' Quinn tapped at the window. 'We'll go out of here. Do you have your car, Blaine?'

'Yes, it's parked just out--'

'We'll take that! We should be at the plant in no time.' She jumped down off the chair.

'Okay, Kurt. Stay safe, I love yo--' Rachel grabbed the phone out of Blaine's hand.

'Finn! I love you, Finn!' She stared down at the reciever. 'Hey, he hung up?

Blaine grabbed the cell from her, mindful of his minutes. 'Okay, so! They have a plan to build society up from the remnants of zombie horror and repopulate the earth.' 

'Do they need singers?' asked Rachel. 

'Rachel,' said Blaine severely. 'The world will always need singers.' He slipped into a frown. 'It's just...' 

'What's wrong?' Quinn asked.

'Well, they've named it already.'

'They've-- they've what?'

'I know. I just think that sort of thing needs a vote, don't you? And can you honestly tell me that _The Blaines_ doesn't sound like a nice place to live?'

'That does sound peaceful,' Rachel agreed.

Quinn pinched at the bridge of her nose and breathed out slowly. 'Okay, if we are going out the windows we need weapons. Well, _you_ need weapons. I have this.' Quinn patted the axe. 'Oh!'

Stalking across the room, she raised the axe high and began to slash up a nearby mannequin with the unforgiving blade. Like a Kim Cattrall snuff movie.

'Here!' She tossed them a limb each. 'That should do. When we get out there, you lead the way, Blaine, and Rachel and I will take the rear. Hit as many as you can, and aim for the face.'

'Wait,' Blaine looked down at the instrument in his hands. 'You get the axe and Rachel and I get plastic arms?'

'Maybe we should arrange to share the axe? Like a timetable? Does anyone have a pen?'

'Rachel, Blaine! We have to move now! That door isn't going to hold.' Quinn was back up on the chair, pushing the window open. 'Now you're either with me or back to playing zombie frisbee, which is it?'

Rachel stared down at her new arm in determination. There was no way Quinn Fabray was taking the lime light from her. Okay, she never planned to have zombie horror on her resume but Rachel was versatile, damnit, and she wasn't going to become second billing to the token pretty blonde. Flinging her saliva-ridden hair over her shoulder, she jutted up her chin. 'Let's do this.'


	2. Chapter 2

Of course, every opening night has its little hiccups. Even the great Sarah Bernhardt would have had trouble fully implanting herself into the role of an arm-wielding, plucky heroine amidst zombie apocalypse.

'Arggggggh-- _oof!_ '

'For goodness' sake!' Quinn shouted, slamming her axe into the jaw of the nearest zombie. 'Open your eyes, Rachel!'

Rachel spun round, fake limb outstretched, slapping a circle of zombies. 'Get back! Get back!'

'Eyes open!' Quinn yelled again. 'Blaine! Stop apologising!'

'I'm sorry!' Oh, for-- Now he was helping one _up._

'Blaine! Car! Car!' Quinn grabbed at Rachel's hand, cutting off the arm of an eager reaching corpse. 'Come on!'

'There,' Blaine shouted back, rather deftly taking out two zombies by forward rolling over a hood and bicycle-kicking them in the face. 'The blue one, the Toyota.'

'I've broken my arm!' Rachel yelled, causing Quinn to turn in horror, only to find her holding up half a plastic limb.

Gritting her teeth, Quinn grabbed at Rachel's elbow, following Blaine as he ran. ‘Just keep behind me!’ she ordered, kicking an elderly zombie in the chest. He gurgled, his tongue flapping, and she felled him with a blow to the forehead.

'Get in, get in!' Blaine chanted, as they reached him. He clicked the key fob, activating the automatic lock.

Rachel pulled open the door and scrambled into the back as Quinn dived into the passenger seat. Blaine slammed the door shut behind him, taking three fingers off the nearest zombie.

'Wow,' Rachel said. 'This interior is very clean, Blaine. Do I detect a hint of cedar?'

'You do!' He beamed. 

'Oh, wait, actually,' Rachel shifted, 'there's a stain on the back seat. It's sort of stiff and-'

'So, anyway!' Blaine slapped his hands on the wheel. 'Do you know the way to this tank place?'

'Of course, Finn took me on a couple of dry runs.'

'What?' Rachel seethed.

Quinn smirked into the back. 'Plus he--' She frowned at Blaine. 'Why aren't we moving?'

'I'm just getting my bite,' Blaine explained over the rumble of the engine.

'You're-- oh, my God. It's manual!'

'Quinn, please.' Blaine smiled reassuringly. 'I can drive stick.'

'Yes! We've heard!' Rachel said delightedly and held out her hand to Quinn, who stared at it in disgust. Great. Sixteen years she'd waited to be the first to a crude pun and no one cared. She sat back with a huff.

'It's just all a matter of--' The car burst into motion. Backward motion. 'Oh! Oh! Sorry! I had it in reverse.'

'Just go, Blaine!' A zombie splattered its face into her window, grunting and fogging up the screen with its breath.

'Going! Going!' Blaine pushed the car into gear and tore away from the kerb. 'So sorry!' he yelled as a zombie flung up onto the hood, and up over the roof.

 _Finally_. Quinn lent forward and began to fiddle with the radio, searching for a news station. They had to be some report or instructions. Something. _Anything_.

'Quinn,' Blaine said biting his lip. 'I just got those set to how I like it.'

_'--ombies, please do not leave your homes and barricade yourselves--'_

'Damnit,' Quinn snapped, as the signal disappeared. She turned and was relieved to see Rachel with her cell out. Good thinking, maybe the police could provide some advice and instructions.

'Oh, no,' Rachel sighed. 'Ms Pillsbury just changed her status to widowed.' She shook her head. 'I wish they'd add a dislike button.'

'Are you seriously on Facebook?' Quinn asked. 'Is _now_ the time to build an imagnary farm?'

'Social networking sites are the most powerful tool during a disaster, don't you know that?' Rachel stuck up her chin. 'It has the most up-to-date sources and is the best way to get information out there, what with the news having to wait for confirmation etc.'

'You mean _facts_?' Blaine raised an eyebrow.

'Yes, well.' Rachel began to tap at her phone furiously. 'I'm just telling Santana where to go,' she explained.

'Should we really be holding onto grudges at a time like this?' said Blaine sadly.

'No! I mean telling her about the tank place and the commune. Oh.'

'What?' Quinn turned round. 'What's wrong?'

'She wants to call it Lopez Heights.'

'Of course she does.'

'Okay, right.' Rachel handed her phone over to Quinn. 'That's the latest.'

> **Santana Lopez:** brits and i are alive. head for route six second exit, clear so far. [23 mins ago]

> **Santana Lopez:** met up with azimio and karofsky. [16 mins ago]

'At least she is okay- oh, oh!' Quinn gasped. ‘Oh, no.’

'What? Has it gone onto the pictures? It's not what it looks like. I was just checking on a mole and--and if it's in my outbox to Finn, I just wanted to know what he thought of the mole.' 

Quinn wasn't listening. She merely shook her head and handed the phone back, staring out of the window morosely.

Rachel took the phone gently and glanced down at the screen.

> **Santana Lopez:** avoid route six! undead fucks everywhere. [5 min ago]

> **Santana Lopez:** lost brit in crowd. going after her. [2 mins ago]

> **Santana Lopez:** gahgdgdhahg [43 seconds ago]

'Oh,' Rachel patted Quinn's shoulder, comfortingly. 'Don’t worry. I'm sure she's okay. I'll check her twitter.'

'Don't bother,' Quinn answered, fingers clenching around the axe. She couldn't wait to bury this in the next zombie's ugly skull.

They drove on for a while, often lapsing into uncomfortable silence only broken by calling relatives and friends and gay dads to advise them of where they were heading, and instructions to meet them there. The more of them the better. The more of them, the more zombies they could take down.

'There's something going on up ahead,' Blaine murmured. 'Look.'

A crowd of zombies were gathered outside the Lima Bean. They were scratching wildly at an overturned car, groaning and shoving at each other in their desperation to get in. Dimly, they could make out the scared anxious face of a young woman climbing out of the car and running towards them.

'Stop!' she screamed. 'Please stop!'

'Sunshine!' Rachel cried. 'Stop! We have to help her!'

'No.' Quinn grabbed at Blaine's hand. 'We have to keep going. Not stopping is the first rule of surviving a zombie apocalypse.'

'Stick the rules!' Blaine said, pulling over. 'Oh, that felt quite good, I need to rebel more often. Anyway, we can't just leave her here. She's defenceless!'

Rachel could sense her role as the tragic young ingenue slipping through her fingers. 'Blaine's right. We should floor it.'

'What?' Blaine stared at her in horror. 'No, I wanted to stop! And besides, she's standing in front of the car.'

'You just have to press a bit harder on the gas!' 

'Oh, for the love of--' Quinn waved her hand. 'Get in, Sunshine! Hurry!'

Sunshine ran round to the back of the car, screaming all the while and shoving at the approaching crowd. 'Thank you,' she gasped breathlessly as she climbed in. 'They were everywhere.'

'You're safe now,' said Blaine.

Rachel grabbed the girl into a quick tight hug. 'It's going to be okay.'

'I was so scared!' Sunshine hugged back harder. 

'Me, too!' Rachel wailed. She strengthened her hold.

'I thought I wouldn't get away from those terrible beasts!' 

'Such terrible beasts!' Rachel heard a crack from within Sunshine's chest.

'I can't-- I can't--'

'Nor I! Nor I!'

'I can't breathe!'

'Oh.' Rachel moved back, flipping her hair over shoulder. Score one to Berry.

Sunshine moved back with a side eye to Rachel. 'Do you guys have a plan?'

'Yes. We're going to the tank place,' Quinn explained. 'And-- Blaine? Could you stop swerving to avoid the zombies? They're undead, they won't sue.'

'I don't think there's any point in damaging the paintwork unnecessarily,' he sniffed.

‘At the very least stop driving at the speed limit!’

'I don't want a ticket!'

Quinn rolled her eyes. 'It's not too far, Sunshine, don't worry.'

'I, for one, am looking forward to being reunited with my beloved.' Rachel clasped a hand to her bosom. 'I'm thinking an aria, no, a duet!'

'Guys?' Sunshine spoke up. 'Guys,I-'

'Memory!' Rachel interupted. 'Touch me! It's so easy to le-ee-a-ve me!' 

'Guys, do you--'

'All alone with the memory of my days with Finn...' 

'Shut up, Rachel! Let Sunshine talk!'

Blaine banged a hand down on the dashboard. 'If you don't all stop squabbling, so help me, I will turn this car around!'

'Guys! Do you please have any gauze or band aids?' Sunshine asked. 'My leg hurts pretty bad.'

‘Oh,’ Blaine looked up, with a concerned frown. ‘Why?'

'One of those things bit me!'

Blaine's eyes met Rachel's in the rear-view mirror and he felt Quinn stiffen next to him.

A beat.

'LET ME IN THE FRONT!'

'Rachel! Stop! You're scuffing the dashboard!' Blaine pushed at Rachel's rear, grunting as her toes pressed into his groin. 'I can't see! I can’t see'

'Oh, my God!' Quinn yelled as the car flew up onto the kerb, a horrific screech as a nearby wall took chunks out of the metal and flung them into a tail spin.

‘She’s going to bite me! She’s going to bite me!’

‘ _Why would I bite you?_ ’

Spinning, the car took out a near mail-box, several zombies and a cat before coming to a juddering stop. They stared up in horror. Zombies. Zombies everywhere and they had just lost their lifeline. They began to creep towards them, groaning and moaning as they went.

'Get out of my lap, Rachel!' Quinn snapped, gripping her axe tight.

‘Is everyone okay?’ Blaine asked. ‘Is anyone hurt?’

'Is Sunshine dead?' Rachel asked hopefully.

'What is your problem?' Sunshine demanded. 'I'm fine.'

'We're okay! We're okay!' Blaine said in a shaky voice. 'We're going to get out of this. We are going to make it to _The Blaines_ in one piece. I promise you.'

'You're right,' Quinn nodded. 'As long as we are--'

'Oh.' Sunshine let out a loud belch. 'I don't feel so good.' The trio turned to face the girl in the girl in the back. Sunshine stared at them with large wet eyes. ‘I feel a bit—a feel a bit--'

‘Wha—what?’ asked Rachel, timidly.

‘GAGGHHHH!'

'Everybody out!' Blaine yelled. 'Out! Out!' He flipped open the glove box, snatched up some of his favourite CDs and leapt from the car.

Quinn scrambled out, dragging Rachel by her hair and slamming the door in the face of a snarling Sunshine.

'Why is everybody always grabbing my hair!' Rachel pushed her away and smoothed down her parting. 'You should have just ran her over, Blaine.'

'Ideas, Quinn!' shouted Blaine, swinging at a newly-arrived zombie with the plastic arm. Oh, God. He couldn't think about the state of his car. He just couldn't.

'Oh!' Rachel gasped, her eyes filling with tears. 'Is he eating a cat?'

'There!' Quinn pointed over to a smashed open window beneath a blood splattered 'ANDY'S GUN WORLD' sign. 'Let's load up.'

She ran ahead taking out several zombies, and screaming with rage and triumph.

Blaine stared after her, considering. 'Is she always so--'

'I used to take gym with her,' Rachel said miserably. 'She was an animal during dodge-ball. ‘

Quickly,they followed. dodging stretching arms and violent swipes. They stepped over into the store, avoiding the shattered glass and chaos that filled the sidewalk.

'Quinn, I--' Blaine froze as Quinn swung a rifle towards him.

'Duck.'

He did as she asked, cringing first at the sound and then the hot,sticky liquid that covered his hair and face. 

'That one nearly had your ear. You two need to be more careful. Here,’ she handed Blaine the axe. ‘We’re lucky, they’ve left some guns and some ammo.’

 _Ammo?_ Blaine mouthed at Rachel.

'You know how to fire a rifle?' Rachel asked.

'Of course,' she shrugged. 'My parents are Republicans.' She fired two more shots. 'That'll hold them off for now, but they'll be back. We need to come up with a new plan, seeing as Rachel took away our transport.' 

'You let her in--' 

'Do you think my insurance will cover zombie attacks?' mused Blaine. 

Quinn ignored them both. 'That looks like a storeroom over there. Let's hole up for a while, get our bearings.' She ran over to the room and tested the door handle. It gave. 'Blaine, you're all manly and sexy. You go first.' 

Rachel and Blaine exchanged glances. 'I--I have poor vision,' whispered Rachel.

Blaine sighed. 'Fine.' He pushed open the door and peeked cautiously inside. 'It's okay.' 

They entered the storeroom, which turned out to be a small office. There was a desk and some writing material there, a few filing cabinets and some boxes. Quinn beamed. 

'It's very _Resident Evil_. Blaine, you go and draw up a plan. Rachel, stand guard at the door.' 

'Why me?' asked Rachel mournfully. 

'Because I'm looking for supplies! Also, you'll get eaten first.' She put her thumbs up. 'The plan!' 

'You're like an evil Buffy!' said Rachel, stamping her foot. 

'And you're _Dawn_!' she retorted.

Blaine gasped. 'Too far, Quinn!'

Rachel stood at the door, sulking, as Blaine sat at the desk, tongue in the corner of his mouth as he contentedly hummed. This was so _unfair_ , she thought angrily. They were getting all the good parts and she was reduced to zombie guard-cum-doorbait. She had thought up so many great lines to hurl at the zombies when she took them out. She looked up to the heavens and sighed. Would she ever be the hero?

She wandered over to Blaine, ignoring Quinn's baleful stare. 'They're sleeping,' she said. 'How's the plan coming-- Blaine! That's amazing! The way you caught the terror and determination in my eyes.'

'What? Quinn came over to them. 'That's your plan?'

'Oh, wow, Blaine. The shading is exquisite. I don't think anyone has ever truly seen me like this.'

'Are you sure? I'm not happy with the eye to nose ratio on Quinn's face. It's a little too Picasso, don't you think?'

'But he was a genius.' 

'Yes, but I was going more for a Jacques-Louis David style. See, we're clasping our mannequin arms like the soldiers in _The Oath of the Horatii_. That's why Quinn looks so severe.' 

'And Kurt, crying in the background,' said Rachel, touched.

'Yes! See how I highlight the planes of his face? God, if ever anyone suited chiaroscuro styling--' 

'Where is the _actual plan_ , Blaine!' snapped Quinn.

Blaine glowered. 'Give me a moment, I've never drawn a gun before.'

‘Is that-‘ She peered closer at the drawing of Rachel. ‘Is that the Heart of the Ocean?’

Quinn clutched her hair in frustration. God, she wished she was with Finn. His plan would be much more coherent.

*

'Okay,' said Finn. 'Before we make a run for it, I have our plan! I made it during the swine 'flu epidemic, but just changed the zombie pigs to zombie people.' He pulled a crumpled sheet of paper from his wallet and unfolded it.

'Aww,' said Puck condescendingly. 'You didn't even colour outside the lines.'

'Funny,' said Finn. 'It's a way to grab attention.' He laid the plan out carefully on the table and gestured to his companions to look:

'But why the cape?' asked Puck.

'I just... because I'm the leader.'

'I'm the leader!' said Puck.

'But I have the cape.'

'There _is no cape_!'

'Look--'

Kurt pushed Puck's hand out of the way. 'Who is this?' he demanded.

'You.'

'Why am I vomiting?'

'It's... it's a scarf. I thought you'd be wearing a scarf.'

'It's summer, Finn.'

'Because zombie attacks have a season!' he said scornfully.

Kurt frowned. 'And I'm crying. You actually drew me crying.'

'You're crying right now,' Puck pointed out.

'That's beside the point. And the worst thing -- the absolute worst thing, the nadir of your betrayal -- is the fat thighs.'

'My pen slipped!'

'You think I have fat thighs,' he accused, his voice dripping hatred.

'I don't!'

'I like that I'm holding a boomerang and a dildo,' said Puck. 'I'd never thought of using them as weapons, but they make sense.'

'It's a gun and a machete!' snapped Finn.

'And why am I doing the macarena?'

Finn slapped his head. 'Will you two shut up! It's perfect!'

'Kurt, you got a pen?'

Kurt dug into his backpack and handed one to Puck, glowering at Finn all the while.

'Wh-what are you doing?' asked Finn.

'Just a minor flaw in the plan. I'm fixing it.' Puck stepped back, pleased. 'There:'

'I hope you get eaten first,' said Finn bitterly.

Puck slapped him on the back. 'Yeah, that's not gonna happen. But good call on the zombie birds, even though that's not going to happen, either. I'd punch them out of the sky, the feathered fucks. Anyway, this is a solid plan. Let's get going!'

'But... the ending. It's ridiculous!' said Kurt.

'Why?' demanded Finn.

'Your entire plan revolves around Coach Sylvester rescuing us. In a tank.'

'Well, duh. We're going to be at the tank museum thing.'

'But she hates us, she might be dead, why would she be coming that way, why can't we call the cops or get dad to help us, what about the other citizens of Lima, why can't we get our own tank, where would she get a tank and what do we do when we're on the roof, surrounded by birds and tanks and zombies and she doesn't appear!' he shouted.

His two companions regarded him for a moment. 'Dude,' said Puck. 'Shut up.'

'Why don't we just stay in the mall?' asked Kurt. 'We have everything we need here! We have food, water, clothes--'

'Have I taught you nothing!' gasped Finn. 'How many times have I made you watch Dawn of The Dead?'

'About five thousand,' Kurt muttered.

'And they're totally convinced the mall's the right place to hide. And every time, a zombie sneaks through the double doors or comes roaring out of the fountain--'

'But that's just to add suspense to the story,' Kurt insisted. 'I'm staying here. You go outside and get eaten, see how you like _that_.' He folded his arms.

'I don't want to stay!' cried Finn. 'I know what's going to happen if we do! And I'm not being funny, but as the handsome jock, I'll be first to get eaten.'

'Whatever,' muttered Kurt. 'I'm not going.'

*

'Help! Help, I'm being kidnapped!' cried Kurt, hanging on to the window ledge. 

'Shut up!' said Puck. 'You're going to alert zombies everywhere!' With one final pull, he and Finn managed to extricate Kurt from the window. 'It's safer out here. Any minute now, one of those zombies are going to remember the code. It's like wired into deep memory or something, I dunno.' 

Finn patted Kurt's shoulder as they put him down on the ground. 'He's right, Kurt. Now let's go steal those bikes from the parking lot and get out of here.' 

'My car's right there!' protested Kurt.

Puck threw up his hands. 'Look, we all know what'll happen. We'll get a few miles down the road and then the gas'll run out or we'll get attacked because the car runs into something or makes too much noise. Bikes are the way forward: they're fast, they're quiet and we can outpedal those freaks.' He picked the biggest bike for himself and hopped on. 'Come on!' 

'There are _two_ bikes,' hissed Kurt. 

'Finn, give him a ride.' 

'I'll just take my car and meet you there!' protested Kurt. 

'No, come with!' 

'But the police--' 

'Fuck da police!' shouted Puck.

'Are you _stupid_?' hissed Kurt.

'Oh, I get it,' said Puck. 'You're one of _them_. A fed lover.'

'No! It's just that you've alerted every zombie in a square mile to our presence!' said Kurt. As if to punctuate his horror, a zombie came shuffling to them from around the corner.

'Let's take it down!' said Finn happily.

'Dude, I got this!' said Puck, shoving him out of the way as the zombie staggered towards him, growling. Puck stood his ground. 'Well, come on, then!' he roared, arms outstretched, toilet seat in one hand.

It kept coming.

'Come on!'

Still it kept coming.

'I'm not afraid of danger!'

It staggered forward, stumbling slightly. They were on a hill, after all. And dead muscles don't walk so well.

Puck glanced over at Finn and Kurt, watching him impassively. Man, this was like the white part in comic strips. People didn't like seeing the in-between stuff. He sprinted over to the zombie so it could get closer. ' _Come_ on!'

It reached out feebly.

He took another step forward so that it was in swinging reach, then thwacked it with the toilet seat. It crumpled to the ground with a groan. 'Ah, no! Argh, the pain!' he cried.

Something morbid quickened in Finn. 'You've been bitten!' he said excitedly.

'No,' said Puck, turning towards him. 'The stupid lid closed on my fingers.' He paused to examine his hand while the zombie reached to grab his leg. 'Chill out!' he said angrily, kicking it in the face. He walked back to Finn and Kurt as the zombie rose shakily to its feet and followed. 'We have to get baseball bats or something,' he decided. 'My fingers stink, now.' He held out his hand to Finn's nose. 'Here, smell!'

'Get away from me with that foulness!' snapped Finn, pushing him. 'And where the hell are we going to get baseball bats? In case you haven't noticed, all the stores are locked down. And I'm broke.'

'We'll just do a London.'

'A what?'

'We'll loot them.'

Kurt stamped his foot. 'All right, that's enough! I am _not_ going to boot camp because you want to act the hero! We are _not_ looting, Puckerman!' He nodded at Finn as his brother moved behind him, picking up his toilet seat. 'I don't know why you're so quick to celebrate the breakdown of society, as if it's something we need! You know what, Puck? You may not like it, but rules are there for a reason: they're there to protect the vulnerable in society.' He tossed his chin, feeling the strength of his words send resolve crashing through him, while Puck glared. Let him. 'And no amount of punching the air or cursing at cops is going to change our minds. Finn and I, we're different. We understand what--' he stepped back in horror as Finn launched his toilet seat through a store window. 'Finn!'

'We need baseball bats,' said Finn. 'And a soda! I'm not looting if I'm thirsty from screaming at zombies, right?'

'Right!' said Puck. He shoved Kurt forward. 'Go on, you check it out first.'

'It's okay,' said Kurt quickly. 'I'll guard the bikes. Hurry up!' 

A couple of minutes passed before they returned from the store with baseball bats, Mountain Dew (Kurt threw his away) and made their way on the road again. Everywhere was in chaos, just as they'd imagined: cars overturned, alarms sounding and the streets eerily quiet. 

Kurt had to admit, it was better that they were on bikes. Not only were a lot of the roads blocked by crashed cars but zombies seemed to come creeping out at the slightest sound. They were quiet as they cycled through a residential street, hoping to make it to the army whateveritwas without incident. At least, he hoped. The others were probably upset. 

'Man,' shouted Puck. 'This blows! Where are the zombies!' He started ringing his bell.

Yeah, it was only Kurt who hoped for peace.

'Stop it!' he pleaded as Finn inevtiably began doing likewise. 'The zombies!' 

'Where are they!' demanded Puck. 'I want zombies!' 

'Over there,' said Kurt savagely, 'and there, and there and oh look, we have a couple following us.' His eyes widened. 'W-why are we slowing down?' 

'Wait, wait... is it lower or higher for hills?' muttered Finn, twisting the gears on the bike.

'Finn! Pedal faster!' 

'Backseat driver!' snapped Finn. 'I'm going as fast as I can. How much do you weigh?' 

'Is that a crack about my thighs!' gasped Kurt, outraged. 'Oh, God! They're getting closer!'

'Chill!'

'Chill? CHILL! They're nearly grabbing my feet!' 

'Feed them your thighs,' cackled Puck. 'That'll keep them occupied for a while!' 

'Oh, just die!' He screamed as one zombie broke into a jog and reached for his belt buckle. He smacked its hands away and cringed. ‘What do I do! What do I do!’

‘Use the baseball bat, Kurt!’ said Finn. ‘I can’t pedal the bike and kick zombie ass. You have to cover my back-- not _literally_! Turn around and hit them!’ He gritted his teeth as he heard Kurt smack one of the zombies with a satisfying whack.

‘Oh, God! I can’t do this, it’s hideous! It’s so ugly!’

‘Kurt!’ said Finn, displeased. ‘That was a living person like an hour ago.’

‘Not her, not the… the zombie!’ he sobbed. ‘She’s wearing crocs.’ 

'Oh, no! Are you kidding me!' howled Puck, a terrible realisation overcoming him. 

'Did you get bitten?' asked Finn excitedly. 

'Will you _stop_ getting a boner every time you think I've been hurt!' 

'What's the problem, then?' 

Puck shook his head sadly, staring back at the zombies. 'I can't believe I'm in the middle of a badass zombie apocalypse... on a girl's bike.'


	3. Chapter 3

_Ting._

'Stop it.'

_Ting._

'Stop it.'

_Ting._

'Stop it already!' snapped Kurt.

Puck continued to circle him, flicking the bell on his bike. 'The shark's coming to get you, Kurt. It's circling closer.'

'You're supposed to be helping!'

'It's going to eat you, Kurt.'

'It's a bike,' he retorted. 'And also, there are zombies waiting to do that to both of us.'

'I'm bored of zombies,' said Puck. He rode over to Finn, who was still struggling to unlock the entrance gates at the tank compound. 'I thought you were good at this stuff.'

'I never said that! I just said I saw it on a TV show about survival once,' said Finn. 'It's not my fault. It's the lock.' He sat back, frustrated. 'I think we should just go around the front and see if we can get in that way.'

'There could be zombies out front!' protested Kurt.

'Look,' said Finn. 'The sooner we get in, the sooner we can get safe and the sooner we can begin Fuckurt.'

'I wish you wouldn't put so much emphasis upon the first syllable,' said Kurt crossly.

'--And then you two can sit back and do your thing while I get down repopulating.'

Puck frowned. 'Wait. I'm not gay.'

'No, but the whole vasectomy thing--'

'That was a goddamn lie!' exploded Puck.

Kurt grabbed his arm. 'Please, be quiet! The zombies!'

Puck shook him off. 'You selfish fuck, Finn! I won't have you spreading lies about me, I won't!'

'But _you_ said it! How was I supposed to know!'

'All this time,' snarled Puck. 'All this time and talk about Fuckurt and you've just been prepared to make me one of your goddamn stooges! I can't believe this.'

Kurt shrugged. 'He didn't mean it like that. He means we'll be in important positions, okay?' He turned to Finn. 'Right?' he said severely.

'S-sure,' Finn stammered. 'I was thinking Puck could be head of security and you could be like a member of the harem. Not that I'd do you,' he said quickly. 'Just because we're brothers and also because I'm not gay. You could do like the sewing and cooking for us.'

'You want me as the cook!' shrieked Kurt.

'I... I like your pasta bake,' he muttered.

Puck jumped onto his bike. 'Right, fuck you! Kurt, hop on. We'll go and find our own way because Purt will be way more awesome than your pansy sewing circle.' He nodded at Kurt. 'If you want a pansy sewing circle, though, that's totally cool in Purt.'

Kurt tossed his nose in the air and brought his arms and Puck. 'You don't even flinch,' he said, shooting daggers at Finn.

'Wait, guys!' said Finn, jumping up. 'Wait!' But Puck and Kurt were already gone. 'Gah!' he shouted. 'I can't cook, Kurt! _I can't cook!_ '

*

'He just does so many things that are so wrong,' said Kurt. 'He's always "Kurt, does this spot look like cancer? Will you squeeze it and check?" and "Kurt, I noticed you stopped putting cinnamon in my hot milk. Can you tell me why?" and he's just so _demanding_ and he drives me up the wall. I hate him!'

'And he smells,' said Puck.

'I gave him that aftershave,' said Kurt, offended.

They rode on in silence for a while longer, skirting around the back roads towards main street. 'Just to warn you, I think there'll be like tonnes of zombies on the main drag or something,' said Puck.

'I'm sure it's not that ba-- oh my God! Oh my God!' He clamped his hands over his mouth in horror. As they crested the hill, Puck came to a halt. There were hundreds-- hundreds! -- of the rotting undead staggering about. There was no way they'd get through alive.

'Kurt.'

He tried to calm his breathing. 'Y-yes?' he whispered.

'I need your shirt.'

'Why?'

'Less questions, more unbuttoning!'

Kurt paused. 'Are you going to assault me?'

'I am so offended right now, I should punch you in the kidneys,' said Puck. 'Will you just give me your damned shirt!'

He glared at Kurt as the other boy unbuttoned his top, flexing his fingers to indicate he should hand it over. 'Okay,' he muttered, tying the shirt around his neck. 'We're ready.'

Kurt raised an eyebrow. ' _What_ are we ready for, exactly?'

'We're ready to kick zombie ass!'

'Because you have my shirt around your neck?'

'It's a cape, Kurt.'

Kurt closed his eyes, counted to ten. It didn't help. He opened them and gave his best Meatloaf stare at Puck, before reaching forward and grabbing him by the shirt tied around his neck. 'Listen here, Puckerman,' he hissed. 'We are going back to Finn and we are going to find a way in and I will not die for your idiotic superhero ideals today. Do you understand?'

Puck froze, considering. 'All right, little dude,' he muttered. 'No need to go all psycho on me.' He extricated himself from Kurt's grasp and pointed at a zombie slowly winding its way up the hill to them.

'Look at that one. She's got her boobs out.' He smiled at Kurt. 'Total ZILF.'

*

Fine. Whatever. Finn didn’t need them. He was happy by himself, and totally capable. See if he’d let them into Fuckurt now. In fact, he'd just rename it Finland and-- oh, that name sounded familiar. He'd have to check with Rachel or someone that it wasn't copyrighted or something.

Pedaling leisurely back and forth in front of the compound, Finn closed his eyes, leaning his body back and letting the air caress his face. Man, this was like that kick ass movie that he had seen one night. How had that ended again? He stretched out his arms like a cross and continued to make his way along the road.

He felt free, he felt strong. He felt like the leader he was. In fact-- _oh, fuck_.

Feeling the wheel jar something hard, he was flung through the air ass over head, hitting the ground hard. Pain flared across his shoulders and back.

What the hell had he hit? He sat up with a groan, seeing a blond boy with his back to him, standing up stiffly.

‘Dude? You okay?’

The figure froze at Finn’s call, turning slowly on his heel to face him.

Sam Evans! Finn realised. This was awesome, if there was one person in the world who recognised Finn for the dashing hero-wanderer he was, then it was Sam Evans.

‘Wow! Am I glad to see you. Here help me up. We found this totally cool tank place. It was all my idea. And then we are going to form a repopulation commune called Finla—‘

Finn’s voice stuttered to a stop as Sam finally turned round to face him.

_Oh, shit._

‘What—what’s that on your face, man?’ Finn asked weakly.

**PLOP.**

Finn glanced sadly at the ground. ‘Oh. It was your jaw.’ He held up his hands as Sam advanced on him. ‘Listen, dude. I am totally sorry about stealing your girlfriend and praying for you to get hurt in football and that time I told Puck you only had one testicle. I didn’t, like, mean any of it!’ Finn, in his mind, was climbing to his feet, running for his bike and getting the hell out of here, but Finn in reality was frozen to the floor as Sam shuffled towards him. ‘Oh, dude. Please don’t eat my face! Please don’t eat my face!’

Finn squeezed his eyes shut as Sam leant over him, his nose pushing into the crown of his head. Oh, God. This was it. _This was it_. How can you even eat without a jaw? Oh, God, Sam was going to open his head like a can opener.

‘Be gone, foul fuck face!’ someone yelled, following it up with a loud thwack. Finn’s eyes flew open to find Puck standing over a prone Sam, baseball bat in hand, and red cape blowing majestically in the breeze.

‘Puck,’ Finn breathed in reverence. ‘You came back?’

Puck sniffed and squinted into the sky. ‘Heard a woman screaming, that’s all. Didn’t realise it was you.’ He shrugged. ‘Plus Kurt made me.’

A broad smile broke out across Finn's face. 'Kurt, I owe you. Big time.'

'But dude,' said Puck. 'How gay are you? Cinnamon in your milk? Milk, even?' He laughed. 'Do you go to bed with a wittle teddy bear, Finn?'

Finn's face was rapidly going a deep shade of crimson. Kurt hastily turned to the gate, fiddling with the lock. 'Let's forget everything!' he squeaked. 'We need to get in and--'

**KA-THUNK.**

He shrank back as, with one hefty blow from the baseball bat, Finn smashed the lock free.

'Hulk mad,' said Puck. 'Hulk smash.'

'Let's just get inside,' snarled Finn, shoving both of them hard before closing the gate firmly behind him.

'Dude,' said Puck to Kurt, 'remember _cinnamon_. It's his power word.'

*

‘Breathe into this paper bag, Blaine!’ Quinn insisted, her palm rubbing calming circles against his back.

‘Permanent... record... oh, my God,’ Blaine gasped. ‘Oh, my God!’

‘That punk bitch still whining?’ Rachel tossed out, rubbing at her nose in an undignified manner. ‘Sheeet. ‘

‘I can’t go to prison, Quinn!’ Blaine removed the bag from his mouth and pointed at himself. ‘I mean, look at this face!’

‘Swap your sweet hide for a carton of cigarettes and a copy of _Hustler_.’

‘Rachel! Will you stop it!’ Quinn snapped. She rested a hand on Blaine’s knee. ‘Look, we had to take this car. We had to, Blaine. And if this whole zombie thing gets straightened out then we’ll just explain. It’s okay, Blaine. Everything will be okay.’

He looked towards her gratefully: eyes wet and chin wobbling bravely. After a moment, he gave a nod and smiled shakily.

‘Bitch gonna get shanked fo’ sure.’ Rachel paused. ‘Then one of them is going to get this spoon and—‘

‘Rachel!’

If Quinn had realised just how method Rachel was going to go, she never would have allowed her to hotwire the BMW. Apparently, she had starred in an elementary production of _West Side Story_ as a Jet and taken her research a bit too far.

‘Oh, girl! You better check yourself ‘fo you wreck yourself.’

‘Don’t _spit_ in the car, that is disgusting!’ Quinn turned back to Blaine. ‘Ignore her, come on. Just keep driving. We are nearly there now.’

‘Yeah, drive, bitch.’

‘Rachel! Where--- is that a shiv?’

‘I made it out of my comb!’ Rachel smiled proudly, eyes widening as she realised her slip. ‘Nuts to you!’

'Oh, shut up!' said Quinn. 'I understand, it's a dorky Rachel coping mechanism. You can break character for five minutes, can't you? Before I flatten you?'

‘What?’ Rachel shrugged. ‘You can’t just break character, Quinn. Marlon Brando used to say—‘

'He died from eating cake.'

'Did he?' asked Blaine.

'No, but my point stands.'

'What's your point?' asked Rachel darkly. 'Er, please?' she amended on seeing Quinn's angry gaze.

Blaine shrugged. ‘I don’t think you were doing a faithful version of Maria and Tony’s story, if I’m honest, Rachel.’

‘I updated it for the times, Blaine! Like _Rent_ from _La Boheme_. Or _She’s All That_ from _My Fair Lady.’_

‘Pygmalion,’ Quinn interjected.

Blaine’s eyes narrowed. ‘Was that a crack about my height?’'

'It's a myth!' said Quinn. 'It's a classic story--'

'As is _My Fair Lady_ ,' sniffed Rachel.

'They're the same story!' hissed Quinn. 'Sort of.'

'Get out of here!' said Rachel. '...Bitch.'

'What!'

'I- I stop looking at me like... I was calling _myself_ a bitch.'

Blaine shook his head. 'But why would you do that?' he asked. 'Rachel, do you dislike yourself so much that you resort to gendered insults... against yourself?'

'I-- don't,' she stammered, then sat up straight. 'Yeah! I _do_ . That's the kind of badbutt I am.'

'Bad _butt_?'

'I don't like saying ass.'

'Okay,' said Blaine. 'I vote we all stop talking now.'

‘Never mind, we’re near.’ Quinn could feel the grin splitting her face. ‘Guys! It’s just the top of that hill!’

‘Round of applause for the driver!’ Rachel yelled. ‘For he’s a jolly good fellow, for he’s a jolly good fellow!’

Quinn rolled her eyes as Blaine joined in with gusto. Just this one small step and she’d be with sane, competent people that she didn’t want to cover in ketchup and throw into the path of zombies.

‘Wait,’ Blaine broke off in the middle of his scat solo. ‘What was that?’

Quinn frowned, hearing the spluttering emanating from the engine. ‘Oh! Don’t you dare! Don’t you dare! Not when we are so close!’ She gasped in horror as the engine finally blew and the car juddered to a halt.

For a moment the three sat in silence, staring forward in disbelief.

‘We are never going to get there!’ Rachel cried.

‘Just calm down, okay.’ Quinn pulled at the door and stepped out. ‘Come on, there’s no zombies around.’ The others quickly joined her outside of the car, looking around cautiously.

‘Okay, okay.’ Blaine cupped his chin in thought. ‘We’ve got guns. We have an axe. We just need to get to the top of that hill.’

‘We’ll be exposed, but yeah, this area looks pretty clear. We’ll have to move fast, though.’ Quinn cupped her rifle and looked up at the hill. They could do this.

‘Oh! Look at that cute bird!’ Rachel clapped her hands over her mouth in delight. ‘It must have got out of its cage!’

Turning, Blaine and Quinn followed the source of her gaze. Settled on the roof of the BMW was a small, yellow canary.

‘That’s—‘ Blaine tilted his head approaching it with a outstretched hand. ‘That’s so odd! He looks like one that the Warblers used to own.’

‘Yes,’ Quinn nodded. ‘Because birds are all so unique looking from each other.’

‘Hey, little fella! Hey.’ Blaine’s fingers were nearly upon the bird’s feathers now. ‘Are you lost? Aw, you—hey!’ He snatched back his hand in horror. ‘It tried to bite me!’

Rachel frowned. ‘With no teeth?’

‘Fine! _Beak_ me then!’ Blaine was staring at it curiously now. ‘What’s wrong with it? It looks—off or something?’ The bird was staring impassively back, one eye pressed shut and bald patches all over its breast. Blaine felt a shiver trace his spine tenderly.

‘Never mind him, what’s that?’ Rachel was staring up at the sky, at a black mass that was forming above them.

‘What _is_ that?’ Quinn wondered out loud.

‘Oh, my God,’ Blaine whispered. ‘Guys, look at its chest.’

‘What about it?’ Rachel leaned over, her cheek near his in her study.

‘It’s not moving,’ Blaine answered. ‘It’s not _breathing_.’

‘Rachel, Blaine?’ Quinn was moving backwards now, eyes still glued to the sky. ‘Run!’

‘Run? But-‘ Blaine glanced up. ‘Oh, my God!’

‘Run! Run!’ Quinn turned on her heel and began to make for the hill, swinging her rifle above her.

‘Are those birds?’ Rachel shrieked. ‘Those are birds! They're dive bombing us!’

‘This is just like something from Hitchcock!’ Quinn shouted, as her rifle butt smacked a bird in its beak.

You’re right!’ Blaine gasped. ‘This is totally _Psycho_!’ He kicked a bird in the face as it went for his shins. 'Oh, gosh. Oh, I'm so sorry!'

'That was a lark sparrow!' howled Rachel, tears springing to her eyes.

'All birds are equal!' said Blaine.

'They're endangered! How _could_ you?' she gasped, hammering at his chest as they ran.

'It was going for my shins,' said Blaine. 'I'm sorry! I'm sorry!'

'Apologise to PETA!' She stopped mid-tirade when another lark sparrow dived for her nose. 'Aargh!' she cried, punching it in the head.

'See?' said Blaine, darting away from her.

'Punk-butt birds!' she roared at them, diving for cover.

Quinn dropped to her knees as they reached the top of the hill. ‘They’ve...they’ve stopped.’

‘I think it was the effort. Most of them hit the ground.’ Blaine wiped at the blade of his axe with a wince. ‘This was the worst part of the day.'

'Not the zombies?' smiled Quinn.

'Close second.' He squinted at the gates. 'Oh, guys. How are we going to get in?'

'We have an axe,' said Rachel.

'And then we'll have a hole for the zombies to get in,' muttered Quinn. 'No, we need to--'

'Dipshits! Over here!'

'Puck!' gasped Rachel gratefully.

'I've never been so glad to hear his boyish abuse,' said Quinn. They broke into a run in the direction of his voice, relieved to see him with Kurt and Finn.

‘Blaine!’ Kurt ran forward, pressing his fingers through the chain link fence. ‘Oh, I was so worried! I was so afraid that—Blaine?’ Kurt gritted his teeth. ‘Do you think that you could stop drooling over Puck’s bicep for one moment?’

Puck smiled slowly, and gave a flex.

'Stop pinching my fingers!' Blaine scolded Kurt.

'Stop pinching my man!' hissed Kurt at Puck. 

‘Finn! Finn! My very own Finn!’ Rachel sobbed, planting her face against the fence. ‘I feel like East Berlin!’ She stepped back from the fence. ‘That was a stunning lyric! I need to write that down.’

‘Rachel, you look... You look—‘ Finn’s eyes travelled up and down her body in awe. ‘Mailman.’ He settled on. ‘Definitely mailman.’

‘Yeah,’ Puck agreed. ‘That dress is smoking on you!’

Kurt nodded. ‘I have to agree. The gentle colour complements and accentuates your skin and bone structure, while the style is just perfect for showing off your figure.’ He smiled. ‘It’s zombie apocalypse chic!’

‘Are you all blind!’ Blaine snapped. ‘It has a tapered trim!’

‘As charming as this all is,’ Quinn interrupted. ‘Can you let us in?’

Puck shook his head sadly. ‘Can’t. You could be zombies.’

‘What?’ Quinn snapped. ‘You can _see_ us, Puck! And we are talking to you!’

Puck nodded as if considering. ‘Yeah, but what if you're zombie spies?’

‘That’s ridiculous!’ Quinn stamped her foot. She had not fought her way all the way here for this. ‘Just open the gate! Finn!’ she appealed. ‘Please!’

‘You, er, might be bitten,’ Finn said. ‘You should maybe, uhm, take your clothes off.’

‘Brilliant!’ Puck high fived him. ‘Make with the stripping.’

‘Are you stupid? We are not—put your sweater back on, Blaine!’ Quinn cocked the rifle. ‘Let us in, Puck.’

‘I’ve got it!’ Puck grinned. ‘I know how to see, if you’re like cool or not.’ He patted smugly at the red shirt round his shoulders. 'You're in a desert, walking along in the sand, when all of a sudden you look down...'

Rachel straightened up. An acting exercise! She so had this. ‘And I've forgotten my sunscreen! ‘

Blaine gasped. ‘Quelle horreur!’

Puck shook his head, irritation evident in his face. ‘No, you look down and see a tortoise. It's crawling toward you... ‘

‘Get it away, get it away!’ Rachel began to jump up and down, flapping at the air.

Blaine raised his hand. ‘Is it a zombie tortoise? I feel that would be important.’

‘What the fuck?’ Puck bit his fist and squeezed his eyes shut. ‘Kurt, open the damn gate.’

Kurt scampered to obey, pulling the gate open for their friends and then snapping it shut quickly. Thankfully, no zombies had found this entrance yet.

'Where'd you get the gun?' asked Quinn.

Finn held it up proudly. 'We found it on the security guard. He'd been gnawed to death by some zombie animal or something. We, uh, hope.'

‘Nice axe, bro!’ Puck said, winking at Blaine again. ‘Serious weaponry.’

Kurt was seething. Was Blaine seriously stroking a phallic instrument while giggling coquettishly?

'Puck, I warned you before!'

'Dude, relax -- put the axe down!'

Rachel shook her head as she watched the boys bickering. 'Oh, Finn,' she sighed. 'It must be so hard to see the zombie apocalypse mired in immaturity like this. How I have fought today! How many zombies have I taken down--'

'None,' said Quinn.

'I punched one!'

'You punched a bird.'

'Rachel!' gasped Finn. 'That's horrible.'

'It was a zombie bird,' she said, annoyed.

'By God,' whispered Finn. 'I was right.'

'Anyway, I hope you're proud of me, Finn Hudson. I was so _bad_ today...'

'I can bet,' said Finn, nodding sympathetically. 'Did Quinn have to keep rescuing you?'

'Yes,' said Quinn.

'I disagree!' said Rachel, stamping her foot. 'I could take down any zombie! I'd shoot them right between the eyes!' She considered. 'That _is_ where we should shoot them, right?'

Quinn folded her arms. 'Yes. But you'd never do it.'

'I would!' said Rachel,

'Rachel,' said Finn. 'I don't know what the problem is. I'm not judging you but you're not a tough guy. You've never even held a gun, let alone fired one.'

'We'll see about that, Finn Hudson!'

So saying, she snatched the gun from Finn and held it up in the air.

'Rachel, don't!' gasped Quinn, grabbing at her arm.

'Stand back, Quinn. I will not be beaten by you!' she cried.

She raised the gun skyward and fired a single shot into the air. The explosion echoed across the woodland, sending birds scattering and resonating across the town.

'Way to go!' snarled Quinn, snatching the gun from her and grabbing her hair. They launched into a fight while Kurt and Blaine tried to pry them from each other and Puck smirked in delight.

'Wait,' whispered Blaine. 'What's that noise?'

They stopped, listening. The sound of feet -- many, many feet -- came thumping closer and closer. They watched in horror as hundreds of vicious, angry, murderous undead staggered towards the compound, a crushing force of people intent upon killing them.

'Guys,' said Puck. 'I think I need the bathroom.'


	4. Chapter 4

Kurt felt a shiver settling over his frame and a fear coiling in his gut. This was it. They had fought valiantly, only to die in this horrific way. He wanted to be held, he _needed_ to be held. If he had to die, let it be in Blaine's arms, the place where he belonged. 

He turned slowly, his eyes full of tears and his arms outstretched. 'Oh, for goodness' sake!'

Puck winked at Kurt from over Blaine's shoulder, patting at his back as Blaine sobbed into the crook of his neck. 'There, there, little dude.'

'Guys.' Finn began to back away from the gate, 'We need to move, come on!'

'This can't be happening! It can't!' Rachel moaned.

'That's it!' Puck cried, disentangling himself from Blaine and shoving him towards Kurt. 'I can't believe I didn't think of this earlier!'

'We need to go, Puck!'

'Chill, Finn. Who's wearing the cape?' Puck knelt to the ground, removing an item from his jean pocket.

'You can't be serious!' said Quinn, firing a shot at one of the faster zombies. 'A spinning top?'

'Shh, just watch.' He set the contraption spinning. A reverent hush fell amongst their group. Despite themselves, despite the sound of the coming crowd, they each watched every spin. They held their breath in anticipation.

And watched as the spinning top fell over.

'Ah, fuck.' Puck shrugged. 'It's not a dream. Run!'

They sprinted inside the building, Rachel shrieking in horror as they heard the gates give way to the weight of the zombies with a resounding clatter. This was it. The zombies were in. They were surrounded.

Puck came to a halt in the great hall, gaping in astonishment. 'Where are the fucking tanks!' 

'You told me this was a tank place!' spat Kurt. 

'It is!' said Finn. 'I-- I've done all the research.' 

'You can't do research,' snarled Kurt. 'Remember how you did your history assignment on eggs benedict?' 

'That's what I was _told_ to do!' 

'Benedict Arnold!' 

Finn rolled his eyes. 'Yes, exactly. The British preferred his eggs.' 

Kurt threw his arms open. 'Ladies and gentleman, this is what we go through every homework night.' 

Puck snapped his fingers. 'Yeah! I remember us reading about that. And the Americans preferred other eggs but he kept trying to sell them to the British--' 

Finn nodded. 'That's right, so he went back to Britain to get their eggs--' 

'There were no eggs!' spluttered Kurt. 

'Of course there were,' snapped Finn. 'What do you think they ate in those days? Croissants?' 

'Maybe.' 

'Croissants didn't exist--' 

Quinn shoved through them. 'In case you were mistaking the shuffling of zombie feet for chickens, they're headed this way and we're trapped!' she shouted. 'Let's move it! And croissants have been around since the 13th century.' 

Kurt looked impressed. 'Really? See, I thought--' 

 

'Kurt, move it!' 

Blaine gazed around at the empty hall, confused. 'But where are the tanks? Who took them?' 

'Someone smarter and faster than us,' said Puck. 'I don't know what to do...' 

'We should barricade the doors!' cried Rachel. 

They all turned to her, shocked. 

'I-I mean... if, I...' she stammered. 

'Rachel,' said Quinn warmly, 'that's a great idea. Let's do it.' 

Rachel beamed with pride as they set about gathering tables and chairs and placing them in front of the doors, with Puck pausing occasionally to mock the zombies as they attempted to shuffle faster. 

'Right,' said Finn. 'That's going to hold them for a while. But, as all of us who watched _Dawn of the Dead_ will know, that's only going to hold them off for a bit until they crush the doors, break through and rip out our throats and show them to us--' 

Puck slapped him across the shoulders. 'Man, you're making Kurt cry again!' 

'Dude! There's a television!' Finn jumped over the counter, and switched the set on. 'Maybe we can get some news on this thing.'

Puck scowled. 'News? Nobody cares about--' 

'Zombies, though!' 

He rolled his eyes. 'All right. If we _must_. But not the guy with the big hair. He gets me angry.' 

Kurt gasped as the screen buzzed into life. 'Oh, my Gaga!'

Blaine frowned. 'What?'

'Look! Gaga! They got her! The zombies!'

Puck peered at the television. 'Hey, that's from the VMAs. Which was last week.'

'Oh!' Kurt reddened. 'Well, she looks _fabulous_.'

Rachel switched the TV channel over to a more reputable news source and they watched with mounting horror as the reports rolled in: chaos across America, civil disobedience, zombies munching on Ann Coulter. 

Kurt and Blaine gave each other a discreet high-five. 

'Guys, we need a plan!' said Finn. 'I think we should stick to my diagram and try and get up on the roof.'

'Are you sure that'll work?' Rachel frowned. 'How long will we last?'

'No, Finn is right. The roof is the safest bet,' Kurt insisted. 'I want to go on top.'

'There's a surprise,' Blaine muttered.

'Don't start that up again,' Kurt hissed. 'Rock beats scissors. I was totally fair.'

' _Anyway_ ,' Finn drawled. 'I'm pretty sure it's hard for zombies to climb ladders. I don't think I've seen them climb--' 

'They took the stairs in the remake,' said Quinn. 

'Remakes don't count,' said Finn. 'So what we'll do is we'll get upstairs with our weapons, block the stairs just in case and see if we can get attention from passing cars. Or hopefully tanks and--' 

Puck cut him off abruptly. 'FINN. FINN I HAVE THE CAPE.' 

He frowned. 'So?' 

'So shut up! It's time for them to hear my plan. Dudes, what we need to do is get upstairs, because I don't think zombies can climb and remakes don't count. We'll guard the stairs with our weapons, just in case, and we'll keep a look out for passing tanks.' 

Finn scowled. 'That was my--' 

'CAPE!' said Puck, hurrying towards the stairs. 

Finn followed, cursing, while the others brought up the rear. Blaine hung back, dazzled. 'He's... he's brilliant.' 

Kurt elbowed him in the gut.

*

Puck came to a halt halfway up the stairs when a shriek sounded from below. 'Guys! There's a little girl trapped here!' 

'No, that sounded like Kurt,' said Rachel. 

'Where is he?' said Finn, paling. 

'He's taking up the rear.' 

'Well, duh,' said Finn. 'But where is he?' 

'He's taking up the rear!' repeated Rachel. 

'Stop homphoning my brother!' he snapped, offended. 

'I mean, he's at the back of the group!' 

'Oh. Oh, then. Yeah. That was Kurt.' 

They headed back down the stairs en masse, weapons at the ready. Quinn gasped as the hulking back of a Letterman jacket came into view, shuffling towards a corner of the landing. 'Oh, no,' she whispered. 'Of all the zombies in all the tank centres in all the world--' 

'Kill him!' cried Rachel. 

'I can't!' she said, lowering her rifle. 'Kurt's in the way. They're going to have to take this one out themselves.' 

'Kurt! Blaine! Look out!' shouted Finn.

'Yeah, we saw! Thank you!' snapped Kurt. 

'It looks like Karofsky!' 

'Yeah, thanks, Finn. Keep me updated!' Kurt backed up against the wall as Karofsky closed in on him and Blaine. He tried not to make eye contact, which was hard because one of Karofsky's eyes was hanging onto his chin. 

Blaine held up his hands in a pacifying manner. 'Karofsky, I know that our dealings have not always been tempered with the best attitudes. And of course, your transition from mainstream society to this oppressed minority can be a little heady, I admit--' 

'Rarrrrgharbl!' 

Blaine nodded emphatically. 'I see your point. But Karofsky, you'll never be able to like anyone else until you accept what _you_ are. And who's to judge a putrefying corpse, anyway? Have pride!' 

Karofsky ducked, looking ashamed. 'Whaargaffff?' 

Blaine reached out his hand tentatively. 'See, you--' he pulled back as Karofsky tried to bite at his reassuring fingers. 'Okay!' he said brightly. 'We need to do more work. But I have never given up on a friend and--' 

Kurt moved in front of Blaine, shoving at Karofsky's chest hard. 'You have to stop this!' 

Karofsky lunged forward and grqbbed Kurt's face with both hands. 

'Not again, you don't!' snarled Blaine, raising his axe. He smacked Karosfky in the face, landing another blow squarely into him that sent the zombie sprawling.

Puck stood watching from the staircase, impressed. He punched the air. 'Go get him, Blaine!' 

They all watched, for several minutes, as the onslaught continued. Rachel began to weep softly. 'This is like that Peta video Santana posted to my Facebook,' she sobbed. 

Puck turned to his ragtag crowd of followers. He pulled at his cape importantly. 'So, listen up: this was brutal, but necessary.' 

**THWACK.**

'And now it's over. You see, Blaine had to make an executive decision.' 

**THWACK.**

'So what we'll do is get up to the roof and then we can wait this out.' 

**THWACK.**

Rachel turned, clenching her fists. 'Stop, Blaine! He's already dead!' She gazed past Blaine, gasping in horror. 'Oh, Kurt,' she murmured, hand to her lips.

Finn followed the direction of her gaze, icy terror crashing through him. _No_! Kurt held a hand to his neck, blood seeping through his pale, slender fingers.

'Kurt!' Finn ran down the remaining stairs,dropped to his knees and gathered Kurt into his arms. 'I'm sorry! Oh my God, I'm so, so sorry!'

'Finn,' Kurt began weakly, but Finn continued:

'I know I didn't appreciate you at first, dude, and that was wrong. I just... I never took the time to really understand you, you know? I guess I was afraid to let anyone get too close after what happened to my father. And then there was you, and Burt, and somehow life was complete again. We were no longer broken. We were _whole_ again.

'And that was only the beginning, Kurt. Because what did I find in you? Someone who laughed at my jokes, even when they weren't funny. Someone who gave me honest advice on girls, on what not to wear, on eggs benedict. You changed my life, Kurt. You showed me what it was to be a man. A real man. You're amazing, Kurt. You're my brother, in every way.' Finn choked back a sob. 'And I'm too scared to ever really say this, because loving makes a guy vulnerable but... I love you!'

Puck couldn't take it anymore. This wasn't fun, this wasn't kicking zombie ass. Hell, this hurt. He'd shut down after the death of Kevin, told himself not to feel but here he was, tears in his eyes and a pain in his soul. He turned away, his shoulders shaking.

'I love you, Kurt,' Quinn whispered.

'Me, too,' said Rachel, her voice broken and pained. 'I'm going to miss you so much.'

Kurt grimaced and reached out a shaky hand. 'Blaine,' he croaked wearily. 'Blaine.'

'KILL IT WITH FIRE!' Blaine pushed past Puck, axe raised high above his head.

'Jesus!' Kurt rolled to his side, narrowly missing the blade. 'Blaine!'

'Quick! Before he turns into a zombie!' Blaine swung again, and Kurt ducked.

'Blaine!' Kurt jumped up and hid behind Rachel. 'Stop! I wasn't bitten! I wasn't bitten!' 

Blaine halted, his face slipping into confusion. 'But, uh, your neck?'

'I fell on this!' Kurt held up the object that had struck his skin.

'My shiv!' Rachel clapped her hands in delight.

'Why does Rachel have a shiv?'

'Because I'm dedicated to my art, Puck.'

'Why didn't you say earlier?' Blaine cried. 'I nearly--' He made a chopping motion with the axe.

'I was enjoying the _drama_ , Blaine. Usually Finn just screams 'milk!' at me.' 

'With cinnamon,' interjected Puck helpfully. 

Finn turned, enraged, and hit him across the head. 

'Hulk!' wailed Puck, throwing his hands up in the air. 'Hulk smash!' 

Meanwhile, Kurt continued berating Blaine. 'I didn't know you would try and decapitate me first chance you got!'

'Seriously, dude,' Finn shook his head. 'Uncool.'

'I can't believe you!' Kurt turned away, eyes shimmering with tears.

'Kurt,' Blaine soothed. 'Come on! You know I love your head!'

'Don't change the subject!' Kurt sniffed, crossing his arms.

'Look.' A ripping came from behind him and Kurt turned to find Blaine tearing at the bottom half of his sweater. 'Here, take this. Wrap it round your neck.'

'But-- you love this sweatshirt.' Kurt stammered, taking the soft green material from Blaine. 'You say it makes your eyes pop.'

'It does,' Blaine lamented. 'It does.' As Kurt tied it around his neck, he gently patted at the material. 'But I love you more.'

Kurt could feel himself crumbling at the puppy dog eyes staring up at him. The bare, toned midriff was quite the incentive as well. 'I love you, too.' His fingers rose to Blaine's cheek, rubbing gently. 'You've-,' he smiled softly. 'You've got a little Karofsky on you.'

'Ow!' Rachel squealed, covering her rear and directing a shocked glare at Puck.

'Sorry,' Puck shrugged. 'Was getting a little gay in here.'

*

They finally made it to the roof, bruised, battered, but with hope on their side. Puck and Finn checked the perimeter for zombies, pointing them out and throwing the occasional brick. Quinn, who had chosen to guard the stairway entrance, decided to teach Rachel the intricacies of blowing a zombie's head off. 

'Rachel,' she admonished. 'You have to hold your nerve.' 

'I just--' Rachel gasped. 'I don't like shooting them! What if there turns out to be a cure?'

'I hope not,' Blaine inspected his bloody fingernails,' because boy, will my face be red.'

Finn nodded. 'Actually, yeah! Like at the end of _The Mist_ where--'

'Shut up, dude!' Puck slapped his arm. 'That's totally on my Netflix!'

'Yeah!' Blaine joined in. 'Shut up, Finn.'

'Blaine, seriously.' Puck took a step back. 'Personal space.'

Rachel took a deep breath, raising the rifle up and setting a zombified woman in her sights. 'I'm so sorry!'

She fired.

'Sweet!' Puck yelled! 'You got that one right between the eyes!'

'Yes,' said Quinn with nod. 'That was a good start. Why not try--'

Her words were cut off by Rachel firing once more and whooping in delight. 'I did it again! I did it again!' She smiled happily at Finn and raised the rifle over her head. 'I'm a total bad-butt.'

'Okay! Quinn reached for the rifle. 'Let's not get carried away and waste the shells.'

'Stop hogging the rifle, Quinn!' Rachel snapped, hugging it protectively to her chest. 'Share.'

'Give me the damn thing, Barney.' Quinn pulled on the gun, dragging Rachel towards her. 'I foun--'

'Guys!' Blaine yelled. 'Behind you!'

A zombie had sneaked up, its hands deep in Quinn's hair, pulling her down the steps and gnashing at her throat. In her shock, the rifle slipped from her fingers and stuttered down the stairs. The others surged forward, Blaine hacking at the arm of the reanimated corpse but its grip held firm.

'Let her go! Let go!' Rachel shrieked, smacking her hands against the thing's face, mindful of its snapping jaws.

'Back up, losers,' a voice shouted out. 'I gots this.'

Turning to the figure on the stairs, the others gasped and ducked quickly as the shotgun stared up at them.

The resulting blast took the monster's head clean off, releasing a blood splattered Quinn to the floor.

'Santana,' she breathed. 'You're alive!'

'But we thought-- I mean you left that Facebook status! You know? The one that said,' Rachel grabbed at her throat and made a choking sound.

'What?' Santana frowned and removed her cell from her jeans. 'Oh, crap. I've been ass tweeting Kanye West all day.' She squinted at the screen. 'He's replied! "thank you, I'm so glad someone gets me."' 

'Is that Brittany?' asked Blaine.'We thought the zombies had taken you!'

The two moved up to join the others as Brittany shrugged, handing Quinn her rifle. 'They did. But then they threw me back. One of them knocked on my head.'

'Oh!' said Kurt. 'You were a bad nut?'

Santana smiled as she reached them. 'I must say, Berry, that outfit is totally working for you.' 

Blaine glowered. 

'Especially when standing next to him,' she continued. 'He dresses like a children's presenter that's on a very special register.'

'We've got bigger problems than Blaine's fashion sense,' Quinn said as she stared down the stairs. 'Look.'

Zombies, in the dozens, coming up the stairs. Zombies, coming up in pairs.

Puck stared in horror at the zombies down below. 'Why are they getting so excited?' he cried. 

'It's your scarf,' said Santana. 

'It's a cape!'

'It's your cape, then! They love the colour red! That's why they went for the football team first.'

'And the Cheerios,' said Britanny. 'That's why Santana told me to take everything off.' She considered, looking down at her clothes. 'You're psychic. How did you know this was going to happen last week?' 

Santana whirled around. 'So, anyway!' 

'Ah, screw this!' Puck quickly untied Kurt's shirt and wrapped it around Finn's neck. 'You deal with it.'

Finn knew that Puck was passing the buck (and realised with delight that rhymed) but he didn't care. Santana wasn't the only psychic: his picture was coming true. He was the leader, with his cape fluttering in the air, and the zombies were down below. 

They needed a leader. 

'Puck, Kurt!' he gasped. 'The picture's coming true. You know what this means?' 

'Sure,' said Puck. He punched Kurt in the arm, hard. 

Tears sprang to Kurt's eyes. 'Why did you do that?' he protested, weeping. 

Blaine froze, torn. 

'So the picture can be accurate,' said Puck. 

Blaine grinned. 'Oh, you drew him crying, too? I was convinced he'd cry.' He patted Kurt's shoulder. 'You're beautiful when you cry.' 

'Really?' asked Kurt, smiling beneath the glistening, perfect tears on his ivory face. 

Blaine punched him in the other arm apologetically. 'Just helping. You were crying more in in my picture.' He reached into his coat pocket and took out his primly-folded drawing. 'I need to get this laminated.' 

Finn watched in horror as the others moved towards Blaine, oohing and aahing at his artistic prowess. 

'My word,' said Rachel. 'Every time I see this drawing, I'm dazzled anew.' 

'Look at the play of muscles,' said Puck. 'The anatomy is amazing.'

Blaine shrugged. 'Thanks! I've had some lessons.'

Finn grunted, pulling a face. 'Whatever. The ratio between Quinn's eyes is, like, way off.' He pulled out his picture. 'Simplicity is key or something.' 

'Oh, Finn,' Blaine smiled and patted his arm. 'Don't feel bad. your picture is still very, very good.'

'I don't feel bad!'

'And with time, I am sure you can improve. All it takes is practice and dedication. You'll get there!'

'Oh,my God, Blaine. I don't care about your lame picture. Least mine is pyschic! And useful!'

'You two are aware there's a zombie walking towards us, right?' Quinn asked, raising the rifle.

'Finn! There's no need to get upset!' Blaine smiled down at his drawing. 'I will teach you chiaroscuro styling. It's all very simple once you work out the planes of a person's face and how best to highlight them.' 

'Give me that!' Finn snatched Blaine's drawing from his hands, balled it up and threw it at the zombie's feet.

'Oh, you are so Algardi!' said Blaine crossly. 

'Finn! I can't believe you did that!' Kurt scolded. 'Blaine worked very-- is he picking it up?'

They turned towards the zombie, watching with fascination as it uncrumpled the paper.

Blaine gasped. 'He's smudging it!'

The zombie looked from the paper to Blaine, to the paper, nodding slightly.

'He looks impressed!' Kurt cried. 'Wow! I think he recognise-- Oh. He's eating it.'

Blaine shook his head sadly. 'Ohio.' 

Santana raised her gun and shot the zombie in the face. 'Idiots! Move those crates so we can block the stairs!' 

Everyone scrambled to help, while Puck shoved past Finn and positioned himself at the highest point of the roof. 'This is our last stand. We're a bunch of misfits, guys. We sing Journey songs -- nobody cares -- and get slushies thrown in our faces and everyone crushes on me and if anyone was totally not going to survive this, it was us. But now all the badasses (save myself) have been taken down and it's up to us to get out of here and repopulate.' He cast an appraising glance at Santana; she put her finger up. 

'So I don't know about you lot, but I think it's time for a new dawn. It's time for a new era.' 

He jumped down and strode across to Kurt, ruffling his hair fondly. 'Guys, I'm going to Fuckurt.' 

Blaine paled. 'Oh, my God.'

Finn smiled and took Puck's outstetched hand. 'Yeah?' Puck pulled him to his chest and they hugged each other tightly. All manly slaps and grunts. 'Well, I'm going to Fuckurt, too.'

Blaine bit his fist.

Finn turned and clutched at Quinn's shudder, who gave him a brave unsteady grin, her eyes watering. 'We are _all_ going to Fuckurt.'

'Catch me, Rachel!'

Rachel caught hold of Blaine, staring in horror at these people. Molesting Kurt had most definitely not been on the agenda.

'Rachel,' said Finn warmly. 'I know it's hard, and that you don't believe it'll work out, but I know you'll want to help with Fuckurt. You'll love it, I promise.' 

Kurt smiled at her. 'It'll be a blast.' 

Rachel and Blaine stared at each other, unable to believe what was happening. 

'Blaine...'

'Rachel,' he whispered. 'They've lost it. I can't take this world. We should end it for ourselves before we're taken, too.' 

'No,' she said, steeling herself. She picked up the rifle. 'We'll take them out, Blaine. _We_ can repopulate.' 

'Give me the gun!' he screamed. 

Chaos erupted. Quinn and Santana darted forward to wrestle the gun away from Blaine and Rachel. Puck realised yet more zombies were breaking through the crates at the stairs, Brittany began to dance and Kurt realised that this was all for nothing: forget the fun, the talk of utopia: they were trapped. They were only human, they couldn't hold out forever. 

And somehow, the others came to the same realisation gradually. Santana and Puck tried in vain to keep the zombies from the stairs, but it was obvious that they would soon be overpowered. The sheer crush of zombies was overwhelming. 

Kurt sat down, defeated. Blaine walked over and took his hand, kissing it tenderly. 'Everything will be all right,' he said. 

'You don't believe that,' said Kurt, smiling sadly. 'But I'm glad that if we have to go, it can be like this.' 

Finn and Rachel came and sat down with them, then Santana and Brittany, Quinn and Puck. They watched with a strange kind of fascination as the crowd of undead began to swell. 

'Who do you think will kill you?' asked Puck.

'Probably that dork over there. That'd be just my luck,' sighed Santana. 

'Guys,' said Puck. 'It's been unreal. Like, really unreal. But we did good. We held out longer than anyone else.' 

'We should sing something,' said Rachel. 

Blaine agreed eagerly. 'How about--' 

'ATTENTION: THERE WILL BE NO SINGING.' 

'What the hell...!' muttered Finn, standing up. 

He fell back down as a blast rent the air, leaving a cavern of exploded flesh. The remaining zombies stumbled about in confusion while the kids above did the same. 

Santana peered over the side of the roof. 'It's Coach Sylvester!' she exclaimed. 

'In a tank!' Puck said, joining her. 'Look at the size of that mother!'

'Look! It's Mr. Schue!' Blaine jumped up and down in excitement. 'Mr. Schue! Up here!'

'Kiss-ass,' muttered Finn. 'Mr. Schue! Help us! You're totally my favourite teacher!'

'Guys!' Will called up at them. 'There's a fire escape to the right of you! It's pretty clear down here! But we don't have much time.' He pointed to the escape. 'Hurry.'

Running, they made the way to to ladder, quickly scaling down, Blaine helping Kurt who was having trouble with his numb, aching arms.

'I told you my plan was awesome,' Finn said to Puck, grinning, as they reached the teachers.

'Take that damn shirt off your shoulders, Empire State,' Sue snapped, both her and Will climbing down from the tank. 'Don't you know that colour is like cat-nip to these things?'

'Coach, this thing is sweet.' Puck stared at the tank in delight. 'It's the biggest tank I've ever seen.'

'Seen many tanks, have you?' asked Santana. 

'Hey, I've played Call of Duty,' he muttered. 

'Will we all fit in?' Quinn asked, looking over it warily. 

Will did a quick count and then looked at Sue sadly. 'One too many.'

'Dammit,' Sue muttered. 'Well, we'll take Santana and Brittany. Q, too. That's a given.'

'Wait, what?' asked Puck. 'You're seriously going to leave one of us behind?'

'Yeah. I'm not bothered about that one.' Sue looked to Will. 'Ladies' choice.'

'Finn. Easily. We have to have Finn. He contributes _so_ much.'

'Thanks, Mr Schue!' he said with a beam.

'You can't be serious! We aren't sale items.' Kurt protested in horror as the Cheerios and Quinn began climbing up into the tank.

'Na, you're charity store,' said Santana as she entered the tank. She pulled on Quinn's hand as her friend cast one last, reluctant glance at the others. 

'You want Porcelain?' Sue asked.

Will shugged. 'Meh.'

'Did you just _meh_ me?' Kurt seethed, Blaine holding him back. 'Finn! What are you doing?'

Rachel grabbed at Finn's arm as he headed towards the tank. Puck snatched at his other.

Finn hissed. 'Your nails are kinda digging in.'

'I don't care,' said Puck. 'Bros before tanks, dude.'

'Schue, please, man. Rachel and Puck have got to come, too!'

Kurt swatted at him. 'Excuse me?'

'And Kurt!' Finn clasped his hands together please. 'Let them in!'

'Finn,' Blaine said shakily. 'I think you're taking this picture business _far_ too seriously. All artists should be able to take some form of constructive criticism. How else can we be expected to improve?'

Finn smirked. 'Draw your way out of this one, Anderson.' 

'He's coming with us,' hissed Kurt. 

Finn shrugged. 'Fine. But he doesn't get any paper.' 

'I'll draw a mural on the walls,' whispered Blaine into his ear, moving back before Finn could react. 

Sue made a chopping motion with her hands. 'As touching as this is, the zombies are almost upon us. I'll make the executive decision. Will stays.' 

'What!' gasped Will. 'After everything we've been through today? After I saved your life? After we wept at what went down in our respective childhoods?' 

Sue raised a finger, forestalling his argument. 'Will, I may not have told you this before, but I can admit a grudging respect for your tenacity. You'll sacrifice anything for these kids: your dreams of Broadway, your sanity, your very life.' She ushered the teenagers into the tank, then smiled benevolently down at him. 

'Well! The inn's full,' she sighed. 

'Actually,I think there'd be room in the tank if you squeez--'

'Hush, William. The time for our petty struggles has passed.' She held the tattered remnants of the red cape. 'C'mere, champ.'

Numbly, Will moved forward, furrowing his eyebrows as she tied the cape snugly around his shoulders. She patted his head, recoiling slightly at the sponge-like texture of his hair. 'William, it's been a blast.' She nodded at him admiringly, before she climbed back up the tank to safety. 'You up and at 'em, big guy.'

She closed the hatch and the tank rumbled forward, the others in tow, as Will Schuester stood there, perplexed, in his tattered red cape and tattered Broadway dreams.

'Ghhahshsgh.'

Will turned, a cold sweat breaking out at his temple. No. It couldn't be.

'Ter---Terri,' he whispered.

She trudged towards him, her wide, gaping face split open in a parody of a maniacal grin, her hands outstretched.

She'd always loved him in red.


	5. Epilogue

  


_Fuckurt, by Finn Hudson, aged 17._

_The Blaines, by Blaine Anderson, aged 15 (apparently)._

**The End**


End file.
